


Faith manages (it'll just take a while)

by antevasin



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, No Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rated For Violence, and a lot of mental baggage to deal with, and supportive friends, just emotional support, s04e18 Intersections in Real Time, some other characters make cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antevasin/pseuds/antevasin
Summary: "I'll talk about it when I'm ready. It'll just take a while." - Delenn learns what happened when Sheridan was captured and tortured by Clark's faction, and together they try to deal with it without falling completely apart.Set in early season 5, with an epilogue stretching up to Sleeping in Light.PLEASE READ TRIGGER WARNINGS CAREFULLY.TW: Trauma, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, memories of torture, vomiting, non-graphic suicide attempt, psychopharmaceuticals
Relationships: Delenn/John Sheridan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Faith manages (it'll just take a while)

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a bit, and after some long comment conversations with [Ford_Ye_Fiji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji) I actually got around to finishing it within two weeks (thanks for being my motivator)! It turned out much longer than I expected, the original idea was like only the first two scenes? But then I kind of added more and more and this is how it turned out. There's even a happy ending... after a fashion.
> 
> Also, I don't like writing romance in the classic sense, but I love writing supportive friends or partners. So don't expect even kissing, but expect a lot of hugs and hand squeezes.
> 
> Edit: The quote in the beginning is of course the loudspeaker from Intersections in Real Time.

> _"You will cooperate with the state for the good of the state and your own survival. You will confess to the crimes of which you have been accused. You will be released and returned to society a productive citizen if you cooperate. Resistance will be punished. Cooperation will be rewarded. You will cooperate with the state for the good of the state and your own survival. You will…"_

Sometimes the words seem to drown him in slick mud, then they attack him sharply like arrows, next they close in on him, wall-like, until he is crushed almost to death. Almost, never fully. He never fully drowns, just enough to suffocate, to gasp for breath, but not enough for his body to give up the attempts. The arrows sting, they hurt, they make him want to curl up in pain were it not for the walls weighting down on him from every angle. Shocks of anguish seize through every part of his body, he is burned alive, fuelled by an icy wind carrying the needles of a sandstorm, pushing him closer and closer to cliff's edge, toying around, tossing him back and forth over the sharp stones, but always missing the impending fall.

When he tries to scream, his shrieks are muffled, and all it effects is to make his throat raw and his stomach turn. The poison, it's still inside him, and outside the voice drills on and on and on, and the pain scorches him, and his mind refuses to even grant him a minute of rest by passing out, and all he can do is try to hold on to the belief that this will end, one day, but that belief has long deteriorated into a delusional frayed string too weak to hold his weight. Shudders grasp him, whether from pain or despair he cannot tell, and the voice blares on, and on, and he wants nothing more than for it to stop, and then he has to turn his swimming head to the side as bile creeps up his throat and he starts heaving and gargling for air.

Something prods him from the side, and he lashes out, trying to defend against his attacker, but his movements are uncoordinated and soon a grip wrenches around his arm. He briefly thinks he sees Delenn's face blurring into view, her calling out his name, but it must be an illusion. "You're not real," he croaks in a hollow voice, the effort of speaking almost too much to sustain. 

* * *

"John? John, wake up!" Delenn felt panic flurry up in her heart and fought to keep it at bay. Now was not the time to recall Lorien's warnings, to fear that he would be gone even sooner than he had to. He would not, not if she could prevent it. "Lights, ten per cent."

Shaking him was obviously a mistake. His eyes flung open, but they saw beyond her, somewhere she could not see. He tried to pull free, but could not match her hold. All her efforts of calming him in vain, Delenn carefully climbed out of the bed and headed for the BabCom unit in the adjacent room.

While she was slightly surprised to see Stephen respond to a call in the middle of the station's night, it filled her with enough relief that she did not question it. "Delenn! Is something wrong?"

"John, he- Please, come. Something is wrong, terribly wrong."

The Doctor's expression tightened, and he nodded. "I'm on my way. Try to stay calm, alright?" She returned the nod, though how she should manage that she did not know.

When she returned to the bedroom, John had curled up in a tight ball, no longer resembling the rigid straight posture he had taken up earlier. His eyes stood wide open, still staring into the distance, and a small, whimpering sound escaped him when she again tried to touch his arm. At least he did not fight back this time.

"John?"

A slightly more affirmative sound was the only reply she got, but that already posed an improvement from a few minutes prior. She began moving her palm towards his shoulder, drawing gentle circles onto his skin with her fingertips in the hope that it might calm him. His shirt and hair were drenched in sweat, and he shivered. Suddenly, his entire figure clenched, his body spasmed, and he began to retch, his face distorted as he choked up a cloying pulp of what she assumed must be half-digested food. At a loss about what to do, she resumed stroking his arm, intently hoping that Franklin would arrive soon.

The click of the door signalled the arrival of the medical team, and Delenn exhaled a breath she had not known she had been holding. "Over here" she called, and ordered the lights up, setting off a pained hiss from John.

* * *

"Will he be alright?"

Franklin ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to say. Physically, yes. He went into shock, but I don't think it's organic. Everything points to a reaction to severe trauma. Now, that's the part I'm more worried about." He exhaled, seemed to think about what exactly to say for a moment. "Delenn, did he ever tell you what they did to him while he was captured on Mars?"

She shook her head and blinked to turn away the tears that started to form at the memory. "No," she whispered. "Not yet. He said he would, one day, but that he wasn't ready yet." Some of her own memories started to resurface, and she swallowed, trying to swallow them down as well. It had only been a year since she had been forced to face them in the Dreaming, and even more than ten cycles later that process had been incredibly painful. "There is… something I do not understand. Why now? It has been several weeks since then. Why… He never was like this."

"Well, that's not as uncommon as it might seem. It's possible that his subconscious was able to suppress the memories while he remained under constant stress from the war and forming the Alliance. Now that things have quietened down a little, they are coming back with full force." Franklin sat down on the edge of the bed, and Delenn followed in the motion. "Look, this could be an isolated incident, but I suspect it's not. And trauma isn't something you can get rid of with a surgery or by taking a pill twice a day. No, this is going to be long and hard."

Delenn bit her lower lip and turned her head to where John was now sleeping again, mildly sedated and with an infusion running into his body. "There must be something we can do. I do not wish to see him in pain like this again."

Stephen patted her elbow lightly as his face turned to something that was not quite a smile, but also no longer the worried frown it had shown before. "You being there for him could already make a difference. If he had been alone tonight, it's likely he would still be caught up in nightmares instead of sleeping. You did well." Although she was sure at least some of his praise was meant only to reassure her, Delenn took comfort in it.

"But there are a few other things we can try. Now, technically you could try to telepathically block those memories, but depending on what exactly they are it might be very dangerous. In any case, you would need a telepath specifically trained for that, and I'm not sure we are high on the priority list for PsiCorps requests right now. In the long term, there's no way around getting him into some form of psychotherapy, but that in itself is going to put a huge strain on him. Plus, I can't tell you if anyone hired by EarthForce is particularly keen on taking on his case. I will look into a few contacts I've made over the years, maybe I can recommend you someone, but ultimately it's his decision. We cannot force him to if he doesn't feel ready."

"So what do we do now? Are you sure you don't want to keep him in MedLab?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, that might even make it worse. A familiar environment is going to help him feel safe when he wakes up, and there isn't much more we can do there than here." He looked Delenn squarely into the eyes, so seriously that for a moment she had to fight the urge to turn her gaze down. "The main question is, do you feel up to handling this? I can have someone stay with him, that's no problem."

Delenn made the decision within the blink of an eye. "No. If you think I can help… then I'd like to try." She sighed. "I love him, Stephen. And right now, when he needs me... Where else could I be but with him? In your Human marriage ceremony, we swore to stay by each other's side, come what may, until…" Her voice trailed off. _Until the twenty years have passed,_ she heard an inner voice whisper. It sounded suspiciously like Lorien. "I intend to keep that promise. All I wish is to relieve him of the pain."

Franklin stood up, briefly rested his hand on her shoulder, then smiled in a way that she hoped to correctly interpret as respect. "Good. I'm on shift for the rest of the night, so don't hesitate to call me if anything happens, alright? He should sleep in until morning, but you never know." Already halfway out the door, he turned around once more. "Oh, and Delenn - you do know how to change bedsheets, do you? I mean, on a Human bed?"

She inhaled, exhaled, and could not avoid a grin. "I'm afraid I don't."

Snorting in amusement, he retreated back into the room. "Next time we hire I'm adding this to the job description."

* * *

Waking was like slowly floating to the surface of a muddy lake. The pounding in his head, the ringing in his ears, the dryness of his throat, and the nausea - just mild enough to feel uncomfortable, but not threatening - reached his mind before the rest of the world. He exhaled sharply and tried to pierce together what had happened. Was he ill? Trying to drag an answer out of the syrup of his memory proved unsuccessful.

Suddenly - or maybe he simply had not noticed her before - Delenn hovered over him. "Hey," he forced out, wincing at the pain of speaking and the acidic taste in his mouth. She looked worried. Maybe he was sick after all?

Her hand took his, and only now did he realize an IV fluid line coming out of its back, connected to an infusion that hung on the bedside lamp. That settled it, he had to be ill. But why was he not in MedLab then? Before he had managed to convey all these questions with a gaze, not too keen on speaking more than necessary, Delenn produced a glass half filled with water and brought it to his lips. He drank eagerly for about two sips, then his stomach churned again and he stopped, pressing his mouth shut.

Delenn removed the glass, then sat down on the rim of the bed, eyes fixed onto him. "How are you? Do you remember what happened?" There was a slight tremble in her voice, as if she was not looking forward to hearing the answer.

He strained his memory, but all it effected was to make his head hurt more. "No, I don't remember," he murmured sluggishly. "But I feel pretty beat up." He tried a smile, then squeezed Delenn's hand. It took more effort than normally. "What happened?"

She turned her eyes away from him, busying her fingers with straightening wrinkles out of the sheets. He examined them more closely. Those weren't the same sheets he had fallen asleep in last night. "It's not important. You should try to rest."

"Can't. We have a Council meeting." He dreaded the prospect of having to speak, to stand, to stay in a room full of screaming overlapping voices at this moment, but he knew that as president he could not allow himself to be lenient. Even if he really felt terrible.

Delenn shook her head, then lifted her hand to his cheek and began to caress it gently. "You're off duty all day. Doctor's orders. Now get some rest or I won't be able to go either." Comforted by the smile in her face and voice, he nodded and closed his eyes. That was an order he could follow.

* * *

After finally ending the Council meeting at which she had only been marginally mentally present anyways, Delenn quietly sneaked back into John's quarters. The lights were still down, and she could not hear anything, which must surely be a good sign. Datapad in hand, she settled down in the bedroom, watching him sleep, peacefully.

She did not know how much time had passed when he started stirring, just a little at first, then more vehemently. Almost violently. He curled in on himself abruptly, causing the infusion bag to swing as the IV line was pulled, and emitted a muffled howl. The request for her to consider establishing a Chess league among Ranger trainees was instantly forgotten as she hurried to his side and ordered the lights on.

"John? Wake up, John. You are safe. I am here." This time, when she took his hand, he did not fight back - on the contrary, he latched onto it as his breathing dissolved into rapid huffs and his body went rigid. His eyes, now wide open, sought hers, and she was almost sure that she saw relief in them.

Suddenly, he scrambled into a half-sitting, half crouched position and tried to get out of the bed without falling. Delenn took his arm and tried to pull him back onto the soft bed cover - the mattress, she corrected herself as she recalled the word. But he shook his head, breath still hitching, probably rendering him unable to speak, and pointed towards the bathroom. That struck her as confusing; although she had learned that showering seemed to be a common reaction to excessive sweating, he did not exactly seem to be in a state where he could stand upright that long. Or did he need to wash his socks? Maybe Humans too fell into long-practiced habits as a means of finding security in the insecure. She would question him on that later, for now she could make sure he did not fall on his way.

Once they had reached the small adjacent chamber, John sunk down on shaking knees and grasped the toilet bowl with both hands. Leaning over it, he once again violently brought his food back up. Delenn held his arm, unsure what to do except to steady him against the tremors racking his body.

When it seemed like either all his food or all his strength, or possibly both, had left John's frame, his head fell against her chest. She pulled him close, hunched down on the tile floor, and wiped a tear from his face.

"It was poison," he whispered hoarsely. "He poisoned me. With a sandwich. Said it wouldn't kill me, and it didn't, but that was damn sure one of the worst nights of my life." He audibly swallowed twice, and for a heartbeat Delenn feared he would start heaving again. But after a stifled hiss, his head sank back against her, and she began to move a hand through his hair.

"I was there, Delenn. I was there again. It all felt real, so real… So real." His hand caught a fold of her dress, and instantly closed around it, holding on. "I didn't know if you were real, or just…" He weakly shook his head.

Delenn tried her best not to let her own pain and worry shine through, but she could not keep her voice as steady as she would have liked when she replied. She hoped John would not notice it. "You knew something like this would happen, didn't you?"

The head in her arms nodded. "I knew it'd come back… didn't know it would be this terrible."

Silence, for a few seconds. Then: "What am I gonna do now?"

"We will find a way. Faith manages." 

* * *

_Faith manages,_ Delenn thought, heart full of hope when Stephen called her, saying he had found someone who might be able to help John recover.

 _Faith manages,_ she repeated as the doctor crouched next to her hyperventilating husband, whose eyes were burning into the now dark viewscreen, explaining to her that as painful as the sessions were for him, they were their best chance at helping him.

 _Faith manages,_ she grinned as for the first time ever she managed to change the bedsheets without putting one piece or the other on backwards.

 _Faith manages,_ she whispered into John's ear as she helped him up after he had fallen, legs shaky and world blurry as they increased his medication gradually.

 _Faith manages,_ she ended her far too honest letter to Susan, and leaned back in her desk chair, wishing she was still surrounded by more of the friends she had been able to count on in the past two, three years.

 _Faith manages,_ she told Captain Lochley, trying to put as much confidence as possible into her voice, after she had once again taken the President's place at a Council meeting, the Captain throwing her a knowing, worried glance across the room.

 _Faith manages,_ Lennier told her when she broke down in a call, allowing herself to admit how tired, how exhausted she was, from waking every night to inject John with another sedative to stop his raging nightmares, from assuring everyone else on the station that he was perfectly fine, from the unpredictable flashes of worry that suddenly gnawed at her gut when she had been unable to check on him for a few hours.

 _Faith manages,_ Delenn reiterated like a mantra in her thoughts as she lit a candle to meditate and pray after Stephen had nudged her to leave the MedLab cryostasis rooms.

 _Faith manages,_ she held onto when fright gripped her from within and without, John completely besides himself as he choked out what exactly had happened on Mars, in small incoherent bits and pieces, interrupted by tremors causing his whole body to go tense and then spasm uncontrollably, her hand hovering over his link, ready to call MedLab, until he had said everything he could and passed out, utterly dissolved, Delenn cradling his head in her lap as she called for the lights to dim and prepared to spend the night sitting on the floor, thoughts in turmoil, soul weighed down.

 _Faith manages,_ she heard ringing in her ears above the drumming of her heart when Garibaldi's voice reached through the BabCom unit.

_"Ambassador, could the President speak to you for a second?"_

"Is it urgent?"

_"Delenn, John needs you. Now."_

* * *

"Mr. President?"

"Mr. President? Doing anything specific around here?"

Still no reply, and Sheridan hadn't even turned around, so Garibaldi took it upon himself to step closer. When he tapped his shoulder, the ISA president spun around like an animal surprised by a predator. Sheridan looked right through him, at something Garibaldi could not see, and he was fairly certain his former CO didn't really see either. It had been years since he had last seen someone wear that expression - except maybe his own face in the mirror, but that he could deal with better - , but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

"John? Hey, you okay?"

A trembling hand was pressed against the airlock, a feverish plea escaped the silent mouth.

"Okay. Oookay. It's alright, yeah? Just - stay right there for a minute. Don't move. Okay? I'll call Stephen. Or - wait. Delenn? Should I call Delenn?" He hated that this still scared the hell out of him. Should have been more used to it by now, but maybe he had fallen out of practice. Or maybe it was because he knew why, or could at least guess, and he didn't like his own role in it one bit.

Garibaldi swallowed, trying not to think of that any more. It served no purpose right now, done was done and the most he could do was damage control. Which was exactly what he was in the process of doing. He decided to take the widening of Sheridan's eyes as approval, not wanting to waste any more time on thinking, and slapped his link. "Garibaldi to C&C. Get me Ambassador Delenn, stat."

* * *

Zack's head poked through the door. "Michael? Delenn's here, wants to talk to you. You got a minute?"

Garibaldi nodded, taking his feet off the desk and whisking a few papers to the side. A data crystal fell to the ground, and he ducked under the table to retrieve it. When he re-emerged, Zack was still there. "Anything else?" He knew Zack well enough to recognize when he wanted to say more.

"Yeah. Maybe." The security chief shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "She seemed pretty shaken. Is everything alright? Something I should know about? I know the Alliance is your business, but-"

Garibaldi sighed, then beckoned Zack closer with a wave of his hand. "It's got nothing to do with the station, or the Alliance." After he had made sure the door had fully closed, he lowered his voice. "Look, Zack, this is kind of a personal thing, and I don't think Delenn wants it to become widely known. So." He shrugged.

Zack tilted his head to the side, examining him as if he was a suspicious traveller at customs. "It's about the President, am I right?"

"Now who taught you to stick your nose into other peoples' business, huh?"

"You did." Zack grinned, then his face fell. "But seriously, Michael, is everything alright?"

"As far as it concerns station security, everything is alright. And if anyone asks, that's exactly what you tell them" He exhaled. This was harder than he thought. But maybe bringing Zack into it wasn't the worst of ideas. He had only been around by accident this time, after all… "Strictly off the record… there have been some issues. But they're working on it."

" _That_ kind of issue?"

"No, no, not _that_ kind. More like… _that_ kind."

"Oh." Zack cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly fixed upon the floor. "Shit."

"You name it." Garibaldi stretched his hands, pushing himself away from the desk. "Now, since this conversation never took place… why don't you let Delenn come in."

* * *

For a while, none of them said a word, and both just nipped at their teacups, eyes wandering anywhere except the other's face. Delenn had wound one of her hands into her hair, absentmindedly curling it and separating strands, as if she could clean up the world by just making sure her hair was in order. Garibaldi mechanically went through his inbox, deleting old messages to take his mind off the impeding conversation.

Delenn's voice trembled when she started speaking. "How-" She broke off, inhaled suddenly, suppressing a sob, and started again. "How did you know?"

He forced himself to look her in the eye, but could not bear to do so for more than a few seconds, so he turned his gaze away before he opened his mouth. "I've seen that kind of look on a man's face. You know, the eyes go somewhere else, somewhere off this world, and he sees through you, and when you look at him all that's there is pain? The person's gone, there's just pain and fear and you kinda feel him slipping away-" He stopped, swallowed, tried to push the memories down. "Scares the hell out of me," he added quietly.

The Minbari nodded slowly, eyes half-closed. Overwhelmed by the need to say something more, Garibaldi continued talking, though he felt he was beginning to make less and less sense. "Look, I - I know I'm probably the wrong person to talk to, after all this is kind of… Damn, Delenn, I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I know what got John so messed up, and I'm sorry, I never wanted this to happen, but it _did_ , and in a way I'm still responsible, and I'd shoot Bester to hell if only I _could_ , and-"

A hand was suddenly and firmly placed on his. Biting his tongue, he looked up again. Delenn now directly met his gaze, and he could see the film of tears collecting in her eyes, though none fell. "You have… seen this before?" Her voice was brittle, fragile, as if a gust of wind would sweep it away.

"Yeah." The silence became too thick to breathe after even a few heartbeats, and Garibaldi found himself continuing, while a voice in his mind yelled at him that he'd only make things worse. "After the War. A lot of people were in bad shape, some more than others. Hell, I probably wasn't at my best either." He definitely hadn't been. "But Jeff… for a year or two after the Line he was this close to the edge most days, if not all. Kept me up more often than your warships did." Stupid, he chastised himself, stupid, he'd only get her more upset.

Delenn only squeezed his hand, her own gaze now lowered. "Then we are alike in more than one sense," she murmured softly. "I do not hold you responsible. Neither does John. Susan - she'll come around." An amalgamation of chuckle and sob escaped her. "And I am sorry too. For all my people have done to yours, and - so much more."

Garibaldi sensed there was more to this than she let on, but even if he had wanted to he felt unable to investigate the matter further right now. So he just nodded. "Yeah." A lonely tear trickled out of Delenn's eye, and he focused his own gaze on the ceiling to not incur the same fate. "Delenn, when Jeff forgave you - and I know he did, though he never told me in clear terms… I did too."

Hope sparked up in her face, and she almost managed a smile. "And when John forgave you, so did I."

He nodded, feeling numbed inside as a clasp he hadn't known was there loosened around his ribcage. "Thank you." He could barely recognize his own voice.

"You said… it took a year, longer even?" It took Garibaldi a moment to understand what Delenn was referring to. Oh. Jeff, of course. Now, how could he break it to her without breaking her just restored hope?

In the end, he decided to simply tell the truth. "He was… never quite the same." The despair darkening Delenn's face felt like a punch in the gut, not made any easier by the memories he had to fight to keep away. "But the first year, yeah, that was the hardest. After that… I think he got his feet back onto the ground. Sometimes he still lost it, but it wasn't there all the time anymore. " He searched for an image to explain it better, aware that no matter how fluent Delenn was in English there were certain things she would not instinctively know like most humans. One offered itself in the fate of another war companion of his.

"Okay, it's a bit like this - imagine someone loses a leg, okay? And he gets a synthetic replacement. Now, at first he's gotta learn how to use it. It hurts, he stumbles, he falls, he wishes he had never lost that leg, think he's gonna spend the rest of his life being useless. Maybe even refuses to practice walking at all. And then, slowly, he learns to live with it. It takes time, for some more than for others. And sure, sometimes he'll still fall, we haven't managed to make perfect prosthetics yet. Some days he'll still curse that damn artificial leg. But most days, he can stand, he can walk. He can live an almost normal life again. But the old leg doesn't grow back, ever. He's not the same person he was before. He's changed. Even if he's got both feet on the ground again, he doesn't stand the way he used to." He wondered whether he had spent too much time listening to G'Kar.

Delenn nodded. "Thank you." When she continued, her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it. "On Minbar, when someone's soul is scarred in this way… Some go to the sea, and their Clan will see them off with honour. Sometimes, we believe, the universe needs to disassemble to understand itself. It needs part of itself out there, searching for answers that will not come. But I do not think… I do not understand that custom as much as I used to. And the thought of John floating away like that-"

"Yeah. I know." Garibaldi shot the locked desk drawer a look. It contained data crystals with copies of criminal records, events on the station that he had kept off the records, and one with copies of messages he never wanted to lose or forget. It contained few. The latest was just under two years old.

"I should go back." Delenn scrambled to her feet, uncoordinated, nearly kicking over the chair. "I want to be there when he wakes up."

"Sure." After a moment of pondering, Garibaldi added: "You think he'd mind if I came visit?"

"Of course not. Please, come with me." She almost sounded pleading, and maybe this was mostly about her not wanting to be alone, but he didn't mind that. With a grunt, he stood up as well, making his way to the door. Delenn caught his arm.

"Thank you," she whispered, and for the duration of a blink she seemed incredibly old and worn and vulnerable. Then she slung her arms around his body. Startled, he remained stiff at first, then awkwardly returned the hug and patted her back.

* * *

_Faith manages,_ Delenn breathed as she sat vigil by John's bedside, candles lighting the room in a soft otherwordly glow.

 _Faith manages,_ John whispered when he woke, holding onto her hand as if he never wanted to let go again, and she welcomed the pain, wiping a tear away from his face as hers flowed down freely.

 _Faith manages,_ she wrote onto his notes, in wobbly English letters that she had only ever typed before, just before the first time he entered the Council chamber by her side again, arms intertwined all the way they walked.

 _Faith manages,_ he choked out between laughter and tears of joy the first morning that they both woke from restful sleep, no nightmares, no sedative injections, no waking.

 _Faith manages,_ Delenn soothed when less than a week later he was hunched over the toilet bowl again, and she rubbed his shoulder to show she was still there.

 _Faith manages,_ Stephen repeated after her with a broad smile when she picked up a new bottle of medication from MedLab, half the dosage of what John had relied on for the past months.

 _Faith manages,_ Delenn insisted on the drifting White Star when Lennier asked if she was afraid for her husband, knowing that it would not be easy, but someone would always be by his side to steady him when he stumbled, even if she was away.

 _Faith manages,_ she reminded herself when John relapsed after their move to Minbar, and she felt herself transported back in time to the early days of their journey, each night accompanied by fretful waking, each day by the side effects of his medication and her pregnancy, the fatigue and the unpredictability.

 _Faith manages,_ she explained with conviction to his father on their first official visit to Earth, after he had taken her aside and, worry evident in his eyes and voice, asked her if she was doing okay.

 _Faith manages,_ a painting displayed in their living room spelled out, in all the languages and scripts of their friends and allies, a reminder that they were never alone in the universe.

 _Faith manages,_ she hushed young David when he stumbled into their bedroom at night, awoken by a fearful scream, and she cradled him in one arm, the other resting on John's back as he struggled back into fitful sleep, no doubt consumed by nightmares of a different kind, of the fate that had befallen Earth, the disaster they had kept from their boy.

 _Faith manages,_ their almost adult son promised as he left the house, Denn'bok in hand, clad in traditional robes, only his eyes betraying that he dreaded his return and the absence of his father that would come with it.

 _Faith manages,_ Delenn smiled through the tears as she looked up at Susan, who found her sitting on the bedroom floor emptying drawers, and presented the new Anla'Shok Na with a syringe, filled with a strong sedative, expired just over two years prior.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you... enjoyed? My B5 fics get darker and angstier by the piece, they're probably not in the realm of "enjoyable" in the traditional sense anymore, but I hope you liked it anyways.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :) whether about the fic, or your headcanons about the episode or what happened after, or different opinions... I'm currently very much into B5 and love to talk about it


End file.
